Total Eclipse
by Moczo
Summary: Sequel to "Tea Time." Werewolves are on the loose, and poor Aziraphale Swan will soon find herself longing for the days when the supernatural world consisted only of sparkling vampires.
1. Prologue

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending of the last story, but at least now you know I wasn't lying about a sequel :3

* * *

_TOTAL ECLIPSE_

_Prologue_

The Swan family owned a large house out in the English countryside. They were a family of four brothers - the eldest brother Michael, who was a mechanic; the second brother Gabriel, who was a professor; the third brother Raphael, who was a surgeon; and the fourth brother Uriel, who was an artist. Raphael also had a daughter named Aziraphale, who would be turning 17 in January.

About a year ago, Raphael and Aziraphale had moved out, only to have his home burnt to the ground by what the media reported as an accident, but was actually a very obnoxious vampire named James. I know the vampire was responsible because it was my house, and he was attempting to flush out my father and me because I know that vampires exist. Yes, my name is Aziraphale Swan, and no I do not know where my name came from other than the obvious fact that my father's name is in there somewhere. Why he didn't just name me Raphaelle I will never understand, but I suppose that wouldn't be any better.

Anyway, yes, not all that long ago my home had been set on fire by vampires, and so my father and I were moving back in with my uncles. It wasn't all bad; while I certainly wished we could have kept our little cottage in Lower Tadfield, at least we had a place to move back to. I would miss my friends, but it wasn't so far of a drive that I couldn't visit, and my vampire-induced injuries were mostly healed by now. I wouldn't miss my boyfriend because there would be a good chance he'd show up at random intervals just to poke me, because that is his _modus operandi._

Besides, I love London, and it was good to be closer again.

"I never once thought you'd be the one to burn down your house," said Michael good-naturedly as he helped carry bags in from my father's 1940 Austin. The car had been damaged in the fire, but Anthony, my aforementioned boyfriend, had nearly wetted himself at the opportunity to fix it. He has an old-car fetish, the odd dear. "That's Uriel's shtick, you know?" My uncle Michael is a tall, broad man, very strong and very youthful-looking despite being the eldest. His eyes are a dark blue, like blue goldstone in the sunlight. His hair is curly and blond, like mine, although it of course is far shorter.

"Hey!" Uriel protested with his expert baby-brother pout. Uncle Uriel is the shortest and slimmest of the four, with curly dark hair and eyes that were more violet than blue. Uriel was definitely the youngest which was apparent in both his stature and his mannerisms; although it had been a joke, Uncle Michael wasn't exaggerating when he pointed out how likely it was that Uriel might accidentally burn down the house. He's more than a little absent-minded, often leaving it up to his brothers to manage his whims. "I resent that!"

"You mean you 'resemble' that," said Uncle Gabriel, also carrying bags. In my family, Uncle Uriel is the id, my father is the ego, and my uncle Gabriel is the super-ego, while Uncle Michael can take any role based on how he's feeling. Uncle Gabriel is stern and strict but has a very sharp and snarky wit. Like his brothers his hair is also curly, although his hair is brown and his eyes are a light shade of grey-blue.

"Be nice, Gabriel," my father murmured, carrying in the last of the bags and the one to hold the door open for me. My father is a redhead, although without the temper that redheads are assumed to have, and his eyes are on the green end of the blue spectrum. It's odd to think that all four of them have different hair and eye colours yet are related, but if you see them in person you'd notice the similarities - the similar curls, the intelligence inherent in their banter (though depending on which one, it can be disguised very well!), the strong bond of loyalty - and it wouldn't be so far-fetched to see they're all brothers.

I think about these things often because my father has never told me who my mother is or if I'm adopted, so I wonder occasionally if I'm related to them at all. If I'm honest, I look the most like Uncle Michael, yet my personality is somewhere between my father's creampuff tendencies with my uncle Gabriel's sarcasm. I'd like to think Uncle Uriel and I don't have much in common barring our incredible ability to be physically harmed by inanimate, unmoving objects… except perhaps our mutual love of dessert.

The home looked the same since we'd left, with its large entryway and wood floors. It was not as large as the vampires' mansion in Lower Tadfield, but we'd done fairly well for ourselves.

Ah, yes, the vampires. Let's be brief: Anthony Crowley is the youngest of the coven that lives in the little town of Lower Tadfield; his seven - no, wait, five, as we'd killed two of them - elders are named after demons so as to strike terror into the hearts of mortals. Anthony had attempted to steal my car, I had knocked him unconscious with a Bible, and the rest was history. Vampires are essentially killing machines - with extra strength, speed, and an array of powers that make hunting very easy - but none of that matters because they sparkle in the sunlight and it's incredibly difficult to take them seriously. Even Anthony agreed that sparkly vampires are absurd, because he'd once commented he wished he would dissolve into dust instead. Of course, Dracula merely lost his powers, which to me would be preferable to death, but death would be preferable to sparkling, so there you go.

Anyway, speaking of my Bible collection getting me stuck with the most absurd vampire lore, I'd gotten my things back into my room, which was exactly when it hit me how few things I actually had. I had always felt, despite knowing better, than my things must have been in bins somewhere else, or just out of sight. Denial had been my friend. But no, I really had nothing left.

Oh dear God. I had nothing left! It was all gone, in the fire!

I felt faint, and everything faded to nothing.

* * *

JUNE

...

* * *

JULY

Anthony was poking me. "Oh come on. I survived, you survived, your father survived."

"Meh," I said.

"Really? The books get months of woe, but the fact that the people you claim to like are alive gets a 'meh'?"

"My books!" I wailed at the reminder. My father pushed Anthony out of my room.

* * *

AUGUST

"How's she doing?" asked someone outside my door. It was a female, so probably Pepper.

"Not well," replied my father. "The good news is she will now respond when you talk to her. The bad news is it's in song lyrics."

"Huh? Really? This I gotta see." My door opened and Pepper walked over to my bed. "Hey. You still alive?"

"Every now and then I fall apart," I sang softly.

"Huh. Your dad wasn't kidding."

* * *

SEPTEMBER

"All right, fine!" Anthony snapped, marching into my bedroom carrying a massive plastic container. I felt a slight bit of curiosity, but it was hard to keep that up. He placed the container on my bed. "I saved your goddamn books."

I sat up. "What?"

"I thought you were in the house when it was burning down so I went in. Knowing you and your stupid book obsession, I started grabbing some. Burnt my skin like a bitch. And then after the fire was put out I went back in and grabbed the others. They've got water and fire damage and I was going to get them fixed but you're driving me barking mad with this whole blue screen of death thing so fine, have your bloody books back."

Every nerve in my body was awake and alert, urging me to either give my saviour a tackle-kiss or to peruse the books. I did both.

A small amount of the books were unharmed, carefully mended by a skilled hand. Clearly those were the ones he'd taken to get fixed. I felt a brief flash of territorialism but quelled it. The books were fine, that was what mattered.

He hadn't saved all of my collection of course, but he'd saved enough to give me some hope.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter One:_

Now that I was back to life again, I reconnected with friends and tried to figure out what I had miss in my months of woe. This led me to September 30th and the day that was the much-delayed, much-anticipated first day of video gaming for Brian, Wensleydale and myself. Last year we'd completed the first game in a trilogy, and today was our first foray into the sequel.

I was excited. I'd thoroughly enjoyed the first game, but I'd been assured that the second was better and the villain was _David Farking Warner_. While not my favourite Shakespearean actor (oh Kenneth Branaugh, please come marry me!) he was definitely in the top five. And his voice! Oh, his voice!

"When does David Warner show up?" I asked as I loaded my elf mage into the game.

"Trust me, you'll know," said Brian, grinning. "He's a bigger ham than the last villain!"

I considered the pour soul who had been my character's brother before our climactic battle resulted in his death - he'd been a massive figure in spiky plate-mail with a fetish for evil laughter and grandiose claims. "Is that even possible?"

The game started. My main character was locked in a cage, and a man walked up to her, talking calmly and yet rolling his 'r's, speaking so dramatically that it had to be him. I felt shivers up my spine. In a way, I was being tortured by _David Bloody Warner_. Gosh, that was hot.

An explosion rocked the screen and David Warner left, making me disappointed. Shortly afterwards, my character's friend busted her out of her cage, and we began to explore the creepy dungeon. There were people in tubs of goo, insane clones, a couple of vicious vampires (they made me giggle a little too much, getting me odd glances from Brian and Wensleydale), and more goblins than I could shake a stick (or a quarterstaff) at. It made me sad that David Warner was clearly insane, but also a little thrilled because I love David Warner anyway.

But the dungeon itself was actually quite boring in terms of gameplay, so we were allowed to gossip as we explored. "Have you heard about Adam and Pepper?" Brian asked.

Since Wensleydale probably did know, I assumed he was talking to me. "Oh, are they dating now?"

"Yep! It took them long enough. They're two of the strongest people I know, but they both chickened out when it came to each other," he replied, grinning. "They're stinking cute together."

Wensleydale nodded his agreement. "I went to see Adam about text books, and they were in the kitchen. They were trying to bake something, and they were being so… shmoopy. It was really adorable, although I think they would have died if they knew I had seen them."

"Awwww." Yes, I was a little jealous. Anthony could be cute, but I couldn't picture us trying baking together, if only because he didn't need to eat human food. Plus I still fancied Adam a little, but not to some absurd degree or anything. "You're right, that does sound absolutely precious. Were they wearing frilly aprons?"

"I refuse to say anything that might implicate me," he replied, sombre. I giggled.

After our game, I left Brian's house and walked back to my car, which was when I saw something very peculiar.

You may think that being kidnapped by vampires would make me jaded, and to a certain degree you would be right. To me, vampires were old hat. Never mind that they were effectively murdering machines that could kill me without effort, I still found them to be rather unimpressive. I think it's the sparkling thing, honestly.

However, despite my peek beyond the mystical Masquerade, when I first saw a massive, mangy beast down the road, crouching and audibly eating something, my first thought was that I was looking at a bear. And then, when it looked up at me with glowing red eyes and a lupine snout covered in blood, it occurred to me that there are no bears in England.

My next thought was that I was dreaming. Then I realised that was that even if I was dreaming, I should probably still run to my car. Then I considered that running would make me appealing prey, so really that was a bad idea.

Then the whatever-it-was growled and charged at me, and I stopped thinking at all and instead ran to my car, too terrified to even scream.

I could see my car, still parked in Brian's driveway. I could hear the quick heavy steps of the beast even over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. It was getting closer, but it didn't feel like I was moving at all.

There was crashing, rolling and growling, but none of it directly on me. I kept running to my car and didn't bother to look at the scene until I was inside with the engine started and I was looking at it all in my rear-view mirror.

Two of the creatures were now fighting; a smaller one had engaged the original. They tussled violently before sprinting off into the woods as a coordinated pair.

I kept a death grip on my steering wheel, even if the rest of me was still convulsing. My home felt millions of miles away, but Anthony's was in the woods where those things had run off too. I could maybe go back to Brian's or Pepper's but what would I say? And what good would it do?

Something warm and wet hit my hand - water. I was crying.

There was no way I could keep it together long enough to drive home, but I really didn't want to go into the woods alone. With no other recourse, I pulled over and called Anthony with quaking fingers. He was closer, he could get to me faster.

"Hey."

"It's your wildest dreams come true!" I blubbered, trying to make myself chuckle to stop crying. It wasn't working. "You get to drive my car!"

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"I'm parked on Main Street in Lower Tadfield, just come get me!"

Moments later, when there was a loud knock on my door I screamed in shock before registering it as my confused-looking boyfriend. Either he'd been close by or he must have run. I unlocked the door and scooted over so he could get in. His brows were furrowed in concern. "You look terrible. What happened?"

"Just drive." I was starting to get calm, but I needed to get into a building. Not that it would help any, but my sub-consciousness hadn't quite registered that yet.

He started up the car. "Where to?"

"I don't care."

He turned, heading back to his house. I felt a jolt of panic but forced it deep down. "Your dad will murder me if you show up like this," he explained. "Maybe you can tell him you got a flat tire and I picked you up."

Actually, with my brain starting to work again, I realised my father would be completely understanding. "Hang on." I dialled the house phone, got uncle Gabriel, and he put me through. "Hullo Daddy."

"Hullo Zizi, what's wrong? You sound upset."

I chuckled damply. "There was a big dog in the road, and it was loose, and it ran at me."

"Aww baby…"

"I'm not hurt, just shaken up. Anthony's taking me to his place to calm down."

"Hmm, all right. Please remind Anthony what happens if he hurts you, and take care, poppet. And call me in the morning before you come home, all right? I'd like to know when you're on the road so I knew when to expect you home."

"Of course, Daddy. Thank you." We hung up and I felt better - my dad would have believed this from a regular dog, so clearly a bear-wolf-demon-thing was far more forgivable.

Anthony looked doubtful. "You're afraid of dogs?"

I nodded. "When I was very little I was attacked by a neighbour's two dogs. I wasn't hurt so bad, but I was shaken up considerably and I haven't gotten over it yet and probably never will."

"Oh." He went quiet as he drove. "For what it's worth, I'm kind of freaked out by the cold."

Well, that was rather ambiguous. "Pardon?"

"One of my first encounters with another vampire – other than Belial, for obvious reasons – well, before I joined the coven, I ran into a vampire whose speciality was controlling water. He really liked ice. I ended up pulling a Captain America, although only for a month or two before someone killed him."

I tried to figure out his meaning from the context considering I had no idea what _pulling a Captain America_ meant other than using a shield and making grandiose claims of colonial patriotism. "Oh. That sounds terrible. Speaking of terrible, my father-"

"Yeah I heard, and you don't need to remind me." He dramatically shuddered, and I giggled a bit.

"Also speaking of terrible, what I saw was definitely not a dog." He merely tilted his head in my direction, bidding me to continue. I described the bear-wolf-dog-thing as best I could without throwing up. "And there were two of them, although the smaller one seemed to be the one in charge."

"Huh." He stopped the car in the garage. "I guess it would be hypocritical of me to call you crazy, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would be hypocritical of the sparkling vampire to question the existence of anything supernatural."

"Fair enough."

So Anthony called a meeting, gathering the more agreeable members of his coven - Adramelech, Asmodeus and Belial - into their sitting room. "Where are Satan and Beelzebub?" I asked, hoping the answer was 'not here'. Also, I was proud of myself for even remembering that Beelzebub existed, considering I'd never even seen him.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Anyway, tell the others what you saw."

I shut down my emotions in order to empirically describe the situation again, resigning myself to not sleeping for a long time. The responses I got were blank stares. "Two of them?" Belial asked. I nodded. "Huh. There goes my theory."

"Which was?" Asmodeus prompted impatiently.

"Werewolf," the other replied. "Specifically, loup-garou, if the size wasn't exaggerated."

That sounded familiar - ah yes, it was in a book I'd read. Oh, lovely. "What are the other types?" I asked, feeling sick.

I was a little relieved to see that he didn't look terribly pleased about this either. "People who can voluntarily change into wolves thanks to enchanted artefacts, family curses, psychological issues, and then the loup-garou is probably the one most people know of, even if they don't know that's what they're specifically called. They're violent killing machines that appear on full moon nights after a violent transformation."

"Is it weak against silver?" asked Anthony.

He nodded. "I think so. But that's about it."

Adramelech poked him. "But you said that since there's more than one…"

"I only ever met one, a long time ago. She was creepy, but thankfully all alone. So I always figured if there could be more, why wouldn't there be?"

"Maybe there are and you never saw them," Asmodeus pointed out, his tone implying that Belial was an idiot.

Belial rolled his eyes and said something, but I was no longer paying attention.

This was my worst nightmare.

Not only were there werewolves on the loose, but they were _French_.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews! Oh, before I forget, a disclaimer I put on my stories now: I do not write for critiques, or art, or any of that. I write to entertain and to tell a story. So please do not feel compelled to pick apart the story for errors or anything like that, I just ask you enjoy. Writing is my hobby, not my job. Thanks!

* * *

Chapter Two:

I was jerked back to attention when Asmodeus said, "Let's go hunting! I haven't hunted anything dangerous in a long time." He said it with such a boyish grin that I wasn't sure whether to reply 'are you insane?' or 'as long as I don't have to go with you.'

"Have fun," said Adramelech airily.

Asmodeus pouted. "Oh come on. None of you are the least bit excited to find something challenging?" This was responded to with a chorus of "no"s. "You're all pansies. C'mon with me at least, Bel. Maybe one of the wolves will have sex with you."

To my horror, Belial actually was convinced by that argument, standing up. "That would be hot, considering the other werewolf I met wouldn't put out. And I can't turn down the chance at a threesome…"

I figured he must be exaggerating from the way both Adramelech and Anthony looked as if they might face-palm any second. "Enjoy, you crazy old men," Anthony muttered.

After they left, Adramelech stood up and clapped his hands with excitement. "I haven't seen you in _ages_, Aziraphale, and it's clear you were crying so you know what that means!"

Actually, I didn't know what that meant. "Er?"

"Time for facials!"

"And somewhere Belial's head just exploded," Anthony muttered. Adramelech smacked his arm.

* * *

So Adramelech subjected me to a spa-like experience for the rest of the evening, which was simultaneously relaxing and embarrassing. I actually fell asleep on the table, which was just fine by me. When I woke up, I felt infinitely better, and Anthony was sitting by my side. "Satan and Beelzebub are still gone, as are Asmodeus and Belial. I should take you home now before that changes. You look better though."

Wow, an actual compliment. What a shocker. "All right, good idea. If nothing else, my family has a lot of books that I can look into."

"Fancy that, your family is a bunch of nerds."

"Not all of us. Michael and Uriel don't have the patience for actually reading."

Anthony looked concerned. "Did it ever occur to you that your entire family is named after angels, except you?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Says the one whose entire family is named after demons except him."

"Yes, but they chose their names. What if your family didn't? What if someone out there actually had four sons and named them after Archangels? That's terribly weird."

I sighed, shrugging on my coat. "What is your point? Are you actually trying to argue that my family is weirder than yours? Because you will never win that contest."

"Says you," he said, and he took me home with no more comments. My father wasn't home so Uncle Uriel let me in, which was impressive considering he often forgets who I am.

My book collection was primarily Bibles, but this wasn't true for my father and uncle, whose collections were far more extensive than mine (which comes from having an income). I hunted through the library, looking for a book on werewolves while trying to stop my fingers from trembling. Thankfully Uncle Gabriel is perhaps the single most well-organised man in the entire world and not only did he have all the shelves sorted by topic and clearly labelled, but he also actually had a section on paranormal topics. This shelf included a tome specifically about monsters.

All right, admittedly that was kind of odd, so Anthony had a point. But I certainly wasn't going to complain.

Skimming the book, I noticed that what Belial had said earlier was true: there were a number of different types of werewolves. I skimmed them, not too interested in the details and really just wanting validation. First, there was the cliché kind: a curse causes a normal person to turn into a loup-garou, a vicious lupine monstrosity, whenever there is a full moon. Second, there were certain artefacts that someone could use to change into regular wolves. And lastly, a curse could affect an entire family, causing certain members who qualify to become a wolf pack. Belial had mentioned psychological issues, but apparently this did not qualify enough to get mentioned in a book about supernatural monsters.

Thankfully the three types had woodcut-style illustrations, and while two looked like regular wolves, the first, the loup-garou, could only be called a wolf in the sense that it looked slightly more like a wolf than anything else other than perhaps a bear. That was definitely what I had seen. All right, so now I knew for sure what I was dealing with, and could look at the –

A piece of parchment fell out from between the pages earlier in the book. I picked it up off the floor, and read:

_Raphael,_

_I've discussed the topic with her extensively, and she is quite cunning. She also has no ill-intent. I balk at continuing this; once per month she goes into hiding, and none are affected by her curse. We would be better off spending our worries elsewhere._

_Tell me what you think._

_-Gabriel_

I read the letter four times. I turned it upside down, tested the strength of the paper, smelled it – it was _old._ The handwriting itself struck me as vaguely Shakespearean in its calligraphic slant.

"Zizi, you're home!" My father walked into the library, still wearing his scrubs; it must be his lunch break. "Are you all right? You look far better than you sounded-"

"What are you hiding from me?" I demanded, my heart pounding in my chest and adrenaline flowing though my veins. I desperately wanted to know, and yet I was terrified to find out the truth. At his shocked expression, I waved the paper in his face. "This paper – the writing has to be hundreds of years old, yet it's correspondence between you and Uncle Gabriel! And it's about – you were hunting someone!"

"Zizi-"

"Don't you 'Zizi' me! I want to know the truth!"

My father took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sit down, dear." I sat on one of the chairs, and my father sat next to me, placing a hand on my knee. "This is going to take a bit of explanation, so please do not interrupt me."

I said nothing, waiting.

He continued on, a bit awkwardly, "Also, please don't freak out. I promise I will answer all of your questions."

I nodded.

He finally found the words. "I am not human," he said slowly. "Neither are my brothers. We are called the _stregoni benefici._ We are a class of vampire. Yes, vampires exist. Your boyfriend is one, although I don't know if you realised it yet. My brothers and I are different, however, as we do not feed on humans and have dedicated our lives to destroying the undead monsters that you are more familiar with. To that end, we appear more human, hence why you were never able to tell; I'm not cold or excessively hard to the touch. The reasoning behind our desire to hunt vampires is slightly complicated, but I'll simplify it for you: my eldest brother - Michael's twin, Lucifer, who now calls himself Satan - was one of us. However, as time passed, Lucifer became corrupted by his powers, which are considerable, and he left us. We traced him to England. Initially our goal had been to convince him to return to us, but your uncles have since given up on that mission and are intent on destroying him as an aberration. I went to Lower Tadfield without them because I don't believe my brother is irredeemable. As for that letter, that was many, many years ago, and we were pursuing something unrelated."

That was a lot to take in, and I wasn't sure where to begin. Finally, I managed to voice the first concern I'd had: "Wait, are you telling me you're Italian?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"You're Italian!" It hurt, it burned to realise that I'd been lied to all this time. "You've got red hair and green eyes, and you're telling me you're Italian? This is terrible! I can't believe you're Italian and you've never once taken me to Rome!" As I said it out loud, I realised that this was a wound that cut deep. "Do you know how badly I've wanted to go there? A trip to Rome is something I've been wishing to do for _years! _ How old are you, anyway? Were you around to see the Roman Empire? Oh, did you meet Michelangelo? Oo, do you work for the Vatican? I've wanted to see it for _ages_ - they have some priceless relics that I've always wished I could even just look at in person! Are you fluent in Italian? Wait, are you fluent in _Latin?_" He looked embarrassed, and I gasped. "You are! All these years I've been slowly deciphering Latin texts, struggling to make basic translations, and you're fluent? This is - I cannot believe you've kept this from me!"

Finally he composed himself. "And the vampire aspect doesn't surprise you?"

I scoffed at that. "Vampires are boring. Oh, but that's a good point! What are your powers? You all have powers, right?"

He shook his head fondly. "Oh, my silly girl. You must have known about Anthony. Yes, we have powers. You can probably guess mine."

"Healing," I replied. "What else would you do?"

He smiled. "Exactly. I can heal wounds and illnesses."

I sat down, considering. "Your brothers are a bit of a mystery though."

"Michael is a pyromancer, which makes him particularly dangerous to other vampires. Gabriel's powers are more passive - he can detect lies."

I had no inclination about Uncle Michael's powers before now, but in retrospect, it did seem like Uncle Gabriel always knew when I had been bad no matter how convincing my lie had been, and it would also make sense that they would have sent him to discuss something with whomever they had been hunting. "That makes sense. What about Uncle Uriel?"

"That is a good question," said my father fondly, "His powers are… chaotic. That's about as well as I can explain it."

I thought about everything leading up to this, and the information that I felt had been missing. "So, do you remember when I was kidnapped by James for the Volturi?" My darling sweet father actually hissed, and I realised that yes, he remembered. "Well, it ended when Death attacked me. Then I woke up with you back in England. Did you have something to do with that?"

He nodded. "When I realised you were gone, I raced to London and got my brothers. The four of us came to find you, and got there just as Death had delivered his blow. I was terrified that this meant you'd forget me when you woke up, but I didn't care so long as you were _alive._ The Volturi were not eager to fight the four of us and after I reassured them that you had no idea the coven Anthony is a member of existed, they allowed us to leave in peace." He sighed heavily. "It took a lot of willpower to not attack Pestilence for harming you earlier, but I know my priorities. Regardless, I was so thrilled when you woke up unscathed, poppet."

I thought back on that, the time I had been extremely ill for days. "So that was Pestilence."

"Yes. He and I have had a very intense, _argumentative_ relationship over the years, in that he is the one creature in this world whom I can honestly say I hate. The fact that he attacked me through you only made that worse."

"I thought it had to do with my knowing Anthony was a vampire," I admitted.

He chuckled. "That's a teenage girl thing, my dear; everything is either about you or your boyfriend."

I stuck my tongue out at him but couldn't really argue, considering he was right. But that led me to my last question, the worst one by far. "So, I don't suppose the _stregoni benefici_ are capable of asexual reproduction…?"

He shook his head at length, and I felt my heart sink. Oh, I suppose I'd always known that, but I'd often dreamed… "I am not your biological father, my silly wonderful girl. I found you on the doorstep, as cliché as that sounds. I considered giving you up, but I saw you looking at me and I just felt… like you and I were meant to be a family." He smiled. "I think we are."

"Oh, definitely." I gave him a hug. He was, as usual, warm and solid, although now I realised just how much emphasis should be placed on _solid_. "We are."

"Good." He held me at arm's length and looked at me fondly. "Besides, now just think, you can decide your own origins! They can be as fantastic as you want and no one will know."

I relaxed, considering this. I could create my own back-story and the tale of my birth. And I knew exactly what to do, given the game that Wensley, Brian and I had been playing. "I'm the child of the dead God of Murder," I said, "and initially I was going to be sacrificed in a blood ritual to bring him back to life, but I was rescued at the last minute."

My father did not have a good response, but that is fine because then I would have to inform him that he dies.

* * *

"So, have you noticed anything odd about my family?" I asked Anthony. We were in my living room, his feet draped on my lap as I attempted knitting.

The look he gave me clearly said "I can't tell if you know and want to know if I know," which of course told me he knew. "Besides the fact that they're odd?"

"I meant that they are _also _vampires."

He let out a large sigh. "Yep. They're the kind of vampires that kill other vampires, so you're not allowed to make fun of me for schmoozing."

I patted his hard foot. "Poor thing. At least you're an expert schmoozer."

"I am around far too many beings that can kill me," he agreed gamely. "By the way, when did you find out about your family? Or did you know all along?"

"Oh, no. I only recently found out. What about you?"

"Remember the day your dad kidnapped me because I skipped school? He told me then. Never has the 'if you hurt my daughter I'll kill you' threat been so honest and plausible."

"Aww. My father is so cute!"

"Says you."

"Don't defile that couch," said Uncle Gabriel, striding in like he could float. Anthony instantly froze a little, and I took the moment to look over my uncle with a newfound eye for the paranormal only to realise that no, he did not strike me at all as a vampire, much like my father hadn't. "It's an antique."

"I imagine everything you own is an antique," I pointed out.

He shrugged. Apparently he already knew that I knew about him, because he continued, "On the contrary, your uncle Michael always insists on buying new things, so if we kept everything we would eventually run out of room." He sat down and fixed Anthony with a stare. "I'm going to talk with my niece now."

"That's good," Anthony squeaked. "You should always encourage good communications in families."

He rolled his eyes, looking back at me. "Your claim that you ran into a large dog in the road rings false, and that combined with your perusal of books on supernatural entities has lead me to the conclusion that you actually encountered some sort of were-creature. Is this true?"

Oh Uncle Gabriel. Anyone else would have said something like "So that dog you saw wasn't really a dog, was it?" or "Nice werewolves they have up in Lower Tadfield, don't you think?" I nodded at him. "Yes, it's true. Two loup-garou."

He nodded slowly. "That's disconcerting. The last time there were any around here, there had only been one and she had the sense to not appear in populated areas."

I gripped Anthony's ankle to keep myself calm. "Can you tell me about her? The letter I found, that you wrote to my father, implied she wasn't responsible for something."

"Her name was Agnes, and she was a loup-garou, among other things. She was a very interesting woman. Regardless, there were unexplained murders at the time, and so we interrogated her to find out if she was involved. She was not."

"Huh," said Anthony.

"Yes?" Uncle Gabriel asked, eyebrow raised.

Anthony balked a little but continued, "It's just a coincidence, I'm sure, but one of the teachers at the school was named Agnes and she… well, I always thought she was weird." I looked back, trying to think of whom he was referring to. Seeing my confused expression, he added, "Ms Nutter."

"The Latin teacher? You thought she was weird? I thought she was delightful."

"That was the name of the werewolf," Uncle Gabriel interrupted. "Agnes Nutter."

"Probably a descendent," I said, thinking about it. "Still, it might be a good idea to visit her, to maybe find out if her family has passed down any stories or legends, or something of import."

Uncle Gabriel nodded. "Be careful if you decide to go, of course. Also, thank you for telling me the truth." He stood up, shot Anthony a warning look, and left us as fluidly as he'd arrived.

"I'm going to guess he doesn't like me," Anthony drawled.

"Oh, definitely, but don't be discouraged. He doesn't like most people."

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, but I was already starting to plot. I had no idea where Ms Nutter lived, but surely someone who actually lived in Lower Tadfield would; it was a very small town, after all. Besides, it had been awhile since I had seen Pepper.

I hated the idea of doing anything involving the werewolves, but I would do what I had to, in order to keep everyone safe. Hopefully, including myself!


End file.
